Extraordinary Stories

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Thursday, April 13, 2017

The "Blood Curdling Tales From The Past" Story

It was an ordinary day.  Carol and I were watching "Wheel Of Fortune" and noticed that this week was V-8 Week with the veggie drink featured on each part of the show.  Then Carol said, "Do you remember years ago when I went to give blood at the hospital and took Tad with me?"  Well, before I go on, a little background is needed to help you understand what Carol was going to tell me.  Her blood type is type "O" and she would get frequent calls from the hospital asking for her to donate blood to their blood bank since her blood can be used by just about anyone.  She almost always made a donation and at times would take one or more of our children with her if I happened to be at work.  On one memorable day she had our youngest son, Tad, with her.  He was about 10 years old at the time and was used to his mom donating blood and knew what to expect from watching the procedure in the past.  But this time was slightly different.  After she had given her pint of blood, the nurse asked if she cared for something to drink such as ginger ale, water, or V-8.  She thought for a short time and asked for the V-8.  The nurse brought her the V-8 already poured in a glass and she began to drink it.  Tad, thinking it to be the blood she had just donated, felt ill after watching her drink it.  After a quick explanation that it was just like tomato juice he began to feel better.  On another occasion Carol had taken me to the hospital after I had cut my arm while working on building a porch on the side of our house.  In the emergency room they stitched the cut and for some reason said they wanted to draw some blood for a test.  I'm sure I must have had blood drawn before, but wasn't sure.  As the nurse placed the needle in my arm, I was amazed as the blood started flowing into the small test tube.  Then I realized it was my blood.  In no time at all the needle was removed, a bandaid placed over the spot on my arm and Carol and I began to walk toward the entrance.  And ... that's all I remembered until I awoke on the litter in the hallway.  And, since that day, I never, ever, watch when they draw blood from my arm.  Funny that when I cut myself working or even shaving, it doesn't affect me, but watching an entire tube of blood being taken from my arm is more than I can handle.  Whenever Carol is with me now when I have to have blood drawn, she always reminds me not to watch.  I learned that lesson many years ago I told her.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.  PS - I couldn't even make myself look for an illustration for this story!

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